recently I wrote about writing what you know, but what if you don’t feel sure of what you know at all? a few days ago i was revisiting some of my old journals. for me, those journals are an archive. i’ve been keeping one since i was 14 years old, filling each page year to year. and as i ran my fingers over the letters, pushed into the pages with ink, i couldn’t get past the gift of hindsight. especially when reading from the high school years. how can something that felt
"i don't always have to be the bigger person in my art" wow, really resonated.